The Aspects of Love
by drama-princess
Summary: Sequel to The Price of Love. Set in the years 1903-1912, it's about the growing pains of the Everett family, old friends and enemies, and, as always, Satine and Christian's love for each other. *Temporarily on hiatus*
1. Tonight

The Aspects of Love  
_It's about love. . . overcoming all obstacles.   
~Christian Everett  
  
_

Chapter I: Tonight  
  
Nineteen year old Margaret Everett looked distinctly out of place in the small French train station. However, with her old-fashioned black cashmere dress and tightly braided hair, she would have looked out of place anywhere remotely fashionable. Clutching her bag tightly as if it was the only thing holding her to the earth, she sat down on her trunk and tried not to burst into tears.   
  
Satine broke away from their kiss laughingly. We're going to be late!   
  
Not that late, he responded, putting his hands around her slender waist.   
  
But I'll have to redo my hair, Satine argued, partially for her benefit as well as for his. And you know how shy Margaret is, she'll probably be terrified, and she's going to be here-- She was broken off by another kiss.   
  
Satine summoned up every inch of her willpower and took her hat.   
  
We. Are. Leaving. Christian only stood their, his look tempting her to put the hat down. she finished, and threw his coat at him. Christian only laughed and followed her.   
  
Should we take Celeste? he asked, pulling his coat on as Satine hunted up her gloves. She paused for a moment, tempted, then shook her head. We'd have to take the carriage then and it'll be much slower. It'll save time if we just go by ourselves in the car.   
  
All right, Christian agreed, catching his hat on the way out the door and shrugging his duster on. These things, he grumbled, are perfectly ridiculous. Satine raised an eyebrow.   
  
Do you recall what happened after you didn't wear it that one Sunday? Satine asked pointedly, remembering the fine, white dust that had completely covered Christian from head to toe.   
  
Ah, yes. Well, then. He glanced down at the floor and grinned at her. Let's go, Satine, we're going to be late. Satine sighed and followed him out the door.   
  
Margaret! Hello, dear! Margaret glanced up from her silent vigil and smiled for the first time in the past few days. Satine hurried towards her and kissed her cheek warmly.   
  
Hello, Satine. Hello, Christian.   
  
I'm sorry we're late, Margaret, Christian said seriously. But Satine was running behind-- he was interrupted by another raise of his wife's eyebrow. Three times in a row of that and he'd be in real trouble. I mean, that is, I was running late. Margaret looked and Satine and the two of them burst out giggling.   
  
I'm very glad you've come to stay, Margaret, Satine said happily to her sister-in-law. You'll love Celeste.  
  
She's crawling now, Christian added proudly. And she gabbles all day long. Margaret smiled timidly as she climbed into the car.   
  
She sounds wonderful. Christian, Mama wanted you to send some pictures of her. I think Father wanted them as well, although he wouldn't say so for the world.   
  
Maybe for the world, Satine said wryly.   
  
As Satine pushed the door open that led to the nursery, she heard Margaret give a tiny, wistful sigh. The room was a bower of soft yellows and whites, and in the very center of it Celeste was contentedly sleeping.   
  
Satine called softly, bending over the crib to smile at her baby while Margaret timidly hung a few feet behind. To Satine's delight, Celeste stirred, her enormous blue eyes looking up into her mother's. Good morning, fairy darling. Or afternoon, rather. She picked the baby up , fussing over her all the while, and held her up to meet her aunt.  
  
Margaret sighed, tentatively extending a finger, which Celeste lazily grasped and held onto. She's beautiful, Satine . . . so beautiful.   
  
Satine smiled as she watched Margaret cradle Celeste in her arms. The younger woman had been born for motherhood, and she hoped that she could experience it soon. And yet. . . there was something very engaging and mysterious about her sister-in-law, although Satine couldn't explain it.   
  
She tried to put it into words as she sat back on the bed, watching Christian sort through some papers. He listened carefully as she spoke and paused before making his answer.   
  
I suppose, he replied finally, propping his head against his hand. Maybe she'll blossom out a little bit here, away from Father and Mother.   
  
I hope so, Satine said thoughtfully, wrapping her arms around her legs and laying her head down on her knees. Christian went back to his story while she sat there in silence for the next few minutes. The pale gold sunset darkened to a soft blue twilight, banded with dark streaks of cloud. Satine glanced down at her hands, and then at her husband.   
  
  
  
  
  
I'm starting to feel older. Christian looked up at her, puzzled, his black hair falling in his face as he did so.   
  
Satine, darling, you're not even thirty yet. And don't even begin to suggest that you're losing your looks. Satine laughed a little at that.   
  
No, it's not that. . . I mean, it's this. Celeste. Do you realize that we've been married nearly three years now? Christian put his papers down and came to sit next to her. She rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her.   
  
What's bothering you, Satine? he asked, his voice muffled against her hair.   
  
I don't know, Satine said slowly. I suppose . . . well, I suppose this is how it feels to be really grown up. I'm not acting any longer.   
  
Christian was silent for a moment, and Satine felt a touch of anxiety herself. The last two years had not been easy for either of them. The shadow of her illness had darkened the first months of their marriage, and then they had had to travel to England. Jealousy, pain, anger, confusion, separation-- all of that had marred the perfect love she remembered from the days at Montmartre. Both of them had learned the costs of love well, and from silent, mutual agreement, had agreed to not speak of those times. Until now.   
  
I know, he said quietly, caressing her shoulder as he spoke. I know.   
  
It's strange, isn't it? Satine asked, looking up into his eyes. They were still as blue and gentle as they had been when she had first looked into them. Strange how some things changed while others resolutely stayed the same.   
  
he said, perceiving her unvoiced thought. But come what may, Satine. Satine nodded and sank back into his arms.   
  
Come what may, she agreed. Christian kissed her forehead and then looked down into her eyes. Placing her hand on his cheek, she kissed him slowly and tenderly, her arms drawing him nearer. Finally she drew back, more out of necessity for air than anything else.   
  
she whispered to him. Christian kissed her in response, feeling the same unaccountable surge of joy that came from loving her. She completed him, in a way that he'd never dreamed that anyone could. He remembered wondering in his youth whether or not soulmates existed.   
  
He'd never doubted that after meeting Satine.   
  
he agreed, and all was lost in their next kiss.   
  
~-~-  
Author's Note: All characters are property of their respective owners. Some are used without permission, but with lots of tender, loving care. Suing me will get you absolutely nothing, except a lot of attorney fees.  
  
This is a sequel to The Price of Love, and while I suppose this could be read on its own, I highly recommend reading its predecessor.   
  
Reviews are always appreciated!


	2. Fireside Reflections

Chapter II: Fireside Reflections  
  
Christian shivered and drew his coat closer. The November wind was starting to pick up, and he wanted to get home from the post office as soon as he could.   
  
Thank you, he said impatiently to the comfortably plump woman who handed him the manila envelope. Goodbye, Madam. The woman nodded and gave him a bright smile as he hurried out the door. Christian glanced up at the dark grey sky and began running, his envelope tucked beneath his coat. The bitter wind tugged impatiently at his hat, and he finally gave up the battle and took it off. The house is too far away, he thought grumpily to himself as he rounded the curve and dashed up the walk.   
  
Once inside, his annoyance subsided as the warmth of the house sank into him. He could smell dinner cooking and hear Satine's voice as she talked with Margaret-- probably in the parlor, he decided as he shrugged out of his coat and headed in that direction. The soft, silvery tones of his wife's voice rang through the rooms like a delicate bell.   
  
Oh! Monsieur! It was Anne, who held a barely awake Celeste in her arms. The baby's up, she explained, shifting the little girl. Madam asked to bring her in as soon as she was stirring.   
  
I'll take her, Christian said, exchanging the envelope for his daughter. Hello, sweetheart. Celeste yawned in response and settled her head against his shoulder. How are you? he whispered, shaking a little, dimpled hand. Celeste's eyes fluttered open and shut and Christian laughed a little. The blue ribbon that contained her dark, silky curls lay pasted against her head. Shaking it loose, he pocketed it and fluffed up her hair. Have a good nap?   
  
As they neared the half-open parlor door, Christian peered inside to see Satine and Margaret sitting by the fire. Margaret was absorbed in her embroidery while Satine sat with her hand clasped over her knee, daydreaming. The firelight danced on her dark red hair, throwing flickers of gold over it. Christian stood still for a moment. He still couldn't believe that she was really here. Safe. In their home, in their love. He still looked at her with the same adoring eyes of the young Bohemian poet.   
  
Almost. Christian closed his eyes as he remembered the horrible month he'd spent estranged from Satine last year. Alone, so alone and afraid that she'd never forgive him for letting his jealous nature get the better of him. For that was what had happened. Christian had looked that reality squarely in the face time and time again. And it had changed everything. The naive idealism that love could conquer all was gone. But wouldn't that have happened eventually? Christian let out a soft hissing breath. He couldn't know. The time for that had passed long ago. . .   
  
Celeste raised her head and placed a hand on his cheek. He smiled at her, at the tiny creature they had created together, he and Satine both. Celeste gave him a sleepy smile in return and let out a tiny cry.   
  
Satine's voice came from inside the room. Is that you? Is Celeste awake?   
  
It's me, Christian answered, coming in with the baby. I intercepted her and stole this little elf. He made a face at Celeste, who ignored him and started playing with his collar. Satine laughed as they sat down.   
  
It's a pretty vicious wind outside, isn't it, Christian? she asked as he set Celeste down. Christian rolled his eyes and Satine giggled.   
  
That good? Oh, honey, what are you doing? this was directed at Celeste, who was crawling around on the rug.   
  
Christian answered for his daughter, whose gabbles were a tad difficult to understand. Margaret laughed softly as he climbed down to join Celeste in her activities.   
  
It was strange how different life was in this house, she reflected as Satine laughed and politely refused any invitation to come down onto the floor. There was an ease and warmth that pervaded the whole house that Margaret had never felt before. At home, she felt-- suppressed-- almost. Here, things were so very different. Her brother's obvious love for his wife and daughter coloured everything he did, and Satine. . .   
  
Satine shrieked at that moment. I'm not coming down-- Christian! Leaving Celeste to her pursuits for a moment, Christian sat down next to Satine and kissed her forehead as she laughed. Margaret smiled shyly at the two of them and looked back down at her embroidery.   
  
Would she ever have what they had?  
  
Satine didn't miss Margaret's timid glance. As Christian wrapped his arms around her, she watched the girl out of the corner of her eye. Margaret reminded Satine a little of herself, for some strange reason. Longing to escape the life she led. . . Satine's focus drifted inward for a moment. As a young girl in the Moulin Rouge, she'd watched dreams shatter as people betrayed and lied to get what they wanted. . . and she'd learned one thing. Never, ever fall in love. It will only break you.   
  
And then a poet with the gentlest eyes she'd ever seen had stumbled into her life. And he'd brought her here, to this enchanted home where she would always be loved. Would Margaret meet someone like that?   
  
Her musings were interrupted by Celeste's raising voice.   
  
Satine asked, tilting her head to look at the small girl. Celeste threw an energetic arm around the room and continued to babble.   
  
Christian said supportively. I agree. It's an awful room. I understand why you hate it. Margaret tried to swallow her giggles, but she was as unsuccessful as Satine. Celeste seemed pleased with the commotion she had caused, while Christian leaned against the wall and watched the scene with contented eyes.   
  
And so, Christian finished that night as he read Cinderella to Celeste while Satine sat nearby. They lived happily ever after. Celeste sighed a little and closed her eyes as Satine stood and put her hands on Christian's shoulders. He twisted to look up at her and she kissed his hair.   
  
Love you, she said quietly. Christian covered one of her hands with his own and gave her a soft look.   
  
How wonderful life is, he replied softly. Now you're in the world.   
  
~-~-  
Author's Note: I don't own Christian or Satine. I do, however, own pretty much everyone else. Reviews and constructive criticism will be welcomed with fanfare. Flames will be accepted only from big, ugly dragons. (I've always wanted to say that) 


	3. Let Tomorrow Come

Chapter III: Let Tomorrow Come   
  
Are you all right, darling? Christian looked over at Satine with concern. She had paused and pressed a hand to her head. Her face was white and her lips pale. Two bright spots burned on her cheeks and her breath fluttered unevenly.   
  
Satine asked faintly. Christian came up behind her and drew her down onto the chaise.   
  
Sit down for a minute, he said worriedly. Should I call the doctor? Satine shook her head and held his arm.   
  
No. . no, she answered. Christian studied her, his blue eyes alight with anxiety.   
  
You're not sick, are you? Satine shook her head quickly.   
  
No. . . it doesn't feel like that, it almost feels like. . . she stopped abruptly, a realization creeping through her mind.   
  
  
  
Satine closed her eyes briefly, as if anchoring herself to the world. She held Christian's hand tightly, breathing slowly and carefully.   
  
I think I'm with child again. Christian's eyebrows rose and his expression hardened a little.   
  
Are you certain?  
  
No. But that's-- that's what it feels like. Christian did not speak for the next few moments. He loved Celeste with all his heart, and would love to have more children, but Satine had ventured dangerously near death during Celeste's birth. Satine looked at him, plainly puzzled by his silence.   
  
Is something wrong, Christian? He hesitated before voicing his fear.   
  
I almost lost you when you brought Celeste into the world, Satine. I don't know if that's a chance I want to take again.   
  
If I am pregnant, we don't have much of a choice, Satine said sensibly. Besides, the first birth is always the hardest, Christian. I should be fine this time around.   
  
And if you aren't pregnant-- maybe we should-- ensure you aren't for a while. he flushed. I don't mean to--  
  
I know, Satine said, a lump suddenly appearing in her throat. Spending nights without him by her side. . . she didn't think she could learn to sleep in an empty bed, separated from him. I know you don't, but Christian, I'm not sure that I want to--  
  
We may not have a choice, Satine, Christian said finally. I'm not going to risk losing you. I've come too close to it too many times. Satine's jaw tightened.   
  
she stopped herself before starting an argument. Let's just wait and see, all right? Christian relaxed slightly and nodded.  
  
All right. He caressed her shoulder lightly. Do you want something to drink? Satine sank back down into the armchair and smiled up at him.   
  
If you really want to get me something--  
  
And I do, he answered.  
  
Then I would like some peppermint tea, please. Christian kissed her forehead and walked off in search of the tea. Satine smiled a little to herself. He would doubtlessly offend the cook by insisting on making it himself. Her smile faded as she looked down at her slim stomach and felt a strange chill, half hopeful, half afraid. As much as she loved Celeste, she had not enjoyed carrying and giving birth to her. Christian was right about that.   
  
Margaret stood hesitantly outside the parlor. Celeste was whimpering, and I thought I'd better bring her to you. Satine held out her arms for her daughter, her worries dissolving as she looked down into her baby face. Celeste shifted impatiently and grabbed one of her mother's fingers. Gently, Satine shook it, cooing over the little girl. Margaret sat down opposite from them, leaning her head against her hand.   
  
How are you, Margaret? Satine asked, glancing up from Celeste. The younger woman shrugged slightly.   
  
I'm well, thank you, Margaret said primly. Satine had to bend over the baby again to hide her smile. She would never be able to get over how funny some English accents were. Christian's voice was beautiful, but even his words were softened by a trace of a French accent that had crept in there over the past few years. Satine's thoughts were interrupted by the next question. How are you, Satine?   
  
I don't know, Satine said absently. Oh, sweetheart, don't do that, that was directed at Celeste, who had a fistful of Satine's dress and was tugging energetically.   
  
You don't know? Satine looked up and laughed.  
  
I'm going to the doctor soon. I think I'm with child again. Margaret smiled slowly, her entire face changing with the expression. Satine reflected that her sister-in-law really did have a beautiful smile. Her face and figure were both a little on the plain side, but her mysterious smile made you forget all of that.   
  
Oh, that's wonderful, Satine.   
  
Satine said, looking down into Celeste's eyes. It is. Whatever the pain and frustration that childbirth entailed, the baby was more than ample payment. Satine would not trade the wonder that Celeste was for anything. Seeing some of both herself and Christian in another human being that they had made together was . . . amazing. She touched Celeste's cheek tenderly. Her darling little daughter. . .  
  
They sat together in silence until Margaret stirred.   
  
I'm going to go back to my studies, she said. Do you want me to take Celeste back to bed?   
  
No, I'll watch her for some time. Thank you for bringing her in, she added as Margaret left. Picking Celeste up, she touched noses with the baby.   
  
What do you want to do, precious?   
  
Ahh ahh ahh, Celeste said firmly. Satine giggled. Celeste was an ever-present source of joy.   
  
  
  
Yes, really, Christian said, entering with a cup of tea. Hello, elfie. Satine lifted Celeste's hand and made her wave at her father as he set the tray down. Here, I'll take her, he murmured as he sat down across from her, Celeste settling down in his lap. Satine sniffed her tea appreciatively.   
  
Did you make this, darling?   
  
Yes. Much to the, er, disapproval of Madam Perret, he said, throwing her a mischievous glance.   
  
Satine said reproachfully, Her look of disapproval melted as she saw his wide grin.   
  
I rang the doctor up, Christian said after a moment. He said he'd stop by tomorrow afternoon. Satine nodded.   
  
I've been thinking, Christian, she said quietly. It's worth it. Christian shifted uneasily in his seat.   
  
I know, Satine. It's just that. . . it's hard for me to see you in pain. I just want to bring joy into your life. . . although God knows I've been a failure at that. Satine glanced up sharply at his tone of voice.   
  
What do you mean by that, Christian?   
  
he said quickly, taking Celeste's hand in his own. Do you know, it's amazing how fast she grows.   
  
Satine said. You haven't been a failure. He refused to meet her eyes, instead focusing on Celeste.   
  
I suppose.   
  
Christian, please put her down for a moment. She rose and sat down next to him, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. And look at me, please, darling. Christian's eyes met hers for a brief moment, and he sighed deeply, leaning forward.   
  
I had these beautiful hopes when we first married, Satine. I was going cure you and make you the perfect home. . . be the perfect husband.   
  
Satine began, trying to reassure him.  
  
And then reality happened, he said bitterly. Satine stroked his hair gently. If I knew what was going to happen in the beginning. . . I don't know.  
  
I do, Satine said firmly. I'd be living with the Duke and you would still be in London, probably working for your father. Celeste would never have been born. She kissed his forehead. That in itself makes it worth it. Besides, she added, tracing the dimple in his chin as she spoke. The greatest thing you'll ever learn--   
  
Is just to love, he finished, a smile touching his lips. And be loved in return.   
  
Let it go, love, Satine said softly. Let it go and move on. They looked at each other for a long moment until their lips touched.   
  
Let tomorrow come, Christian said, touching her hair. And until then. . . Satine gave him a meaningful look and inclined her head towards the bedroom.   
  
We have plenty of things to do.   
  
Abba ahh! Celeste was plainly tired of being ignored.   
  
Christian said in reply as he picked her up and headed towards the nursery. Bed. Now.   
  
How romantic, dear, Satine said, deliberately misinterpreting who his words were directed at.   
  
She barely had time to duck the cushion he threw at her.   
  
~-~-  
Author's Note: All characters are property of their respective owners. Reviews will be welcomed with fanfare and much rejoicing. :)   
  



	4. Christmastime

Chapter IV: Christmastime  
  
Christian, what is that? Satine put the pretty gifts she had been wrapping for Margaret down and stared at her husband.   
  
A doll, Christian said, a little defensively. He held out a delicate porcelain doll with golden curls and soft brown eyes. Her skirt was made of shirred blue silk and she wore dainty kid slippers. Don't girls like dolls?   
  
Satine began, staring at him, her mouth slightly open. Our daughter is not even a year old yet. What on earth possessed you to buy a toy. . . she shook her head and began to giggle helplessly. Christian looked hurt.   
  
Are you laughing at me, Satine?  
  
No, of course not, dear, Satine soothed him. I take you very seriously.   
  
You do not.  
  
Why, darling, how could you think such a thing?   
  
I wonder, Christian said, a little grumpily. He paused a moment, then leaned forward and touched a package. Is that for me?  
  
Only if you want silk stockings, Satine answered, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth as she spoke.   
  
Why, how did you know? Satine looked at him for a minute, briefly stunned, and then began to laugh.   
  
You're always teasing me, Christian.   
  
That's my job. His movements were too fast for her to react to. Within a few seconds, she found herself nestled in his arms. Satine let out a tiny sigh and rested her head against his chest.   
  
What are you getting me for Christmas? she whispered to him.   
  
Silk stockings.   
  
You are not.   
  
Well, one of us has to want them. And if you'd rather I have them--  
  
No, no, that's all right, Satine said hastily. She felt his back stiffen with mirth and pulled back, her glare half playful, half accusatory.   
  
she said. Christian raised an eyebrow at that.   
  
he asked innocently, pressing his hands against his chest. I would never cheat, darling.   
  
Sure you wouldn't.   
  
I love you too. Miffed, Christian sat down on the window seat, pulling her with him. Satine leaned an arm around him, looking into his eyes.   
  
This is really quite improper, Christian.   
  
Satine wouldn't have imagined that Christian could pretend to look more hurt than he already was. She was wrong. The mock injury in his eyes doubled, and Satine felt what little resolve she had had to keep wrapping the presents dissolve. Whenever he got that little boy look in his eyes, she almost automatically crumbled. He knew it too, something that increased Satine's annoyance with the whole thing. Had it not been for her ability to bat her eyes at him and watch him stutter, she might have considered putting a stop to it.   
  
It's improper to have my wife sitting on my lap?   
  
Margaret would die of shame.   
  
Celeste would want to join you.   
  
They looked at each other simultaneously and burst out laughing. Christian took both of her hands in his and gently ran his fingers over them. Satine felt her breath catch in her throat. She had heard of passion fading to companionship in marriages, but she didn't think it could happen to them. A look-- a touch-- and the enchanted bond between them deepened even more. His arms closed around her and she sighed, breaking the connection.   
  
What is it? Christian asked, concerned. Satine shook her head and shrugged a little. Her smile was rueful.   
  
I hate getting fat, she said glumly, touching her thickened waist.   
  
You are not fat, he protested. You're beautiful.  
  
And you, Satine said dryly. Are my husband.  
  
So I noticed.   
  
They sat together for another moment until Satine gently pushed herself up.   
  
Christmas in in five days, sweetheart. I really need to wrap these gifts.   
  
Yes, I know, Christian admitted reluctantly. He kissed her cheek quickly and released her hand. I have things to do as well. Instead of going, he sat down on the bed and watched her.   
  
What is it? Satine asked him, watching his reflection in the mirror. His expression was thoughtful.  
  
It already feels like Christmas here, he said slowly. It always feels like Christmas here.  
  
Satine glanced around the room. Downstairs, the mantels and stairs were decorated with holly. . . Christian had placed mistletoe in several strategic points. . . the spices of baking filled the air, and mysterious brown paper packages had been spirited away from prying eyes. But that wasn't it. . . she knew what he was talking about.   
  
What makes the Christmas spirit, anyway? she asked him idly. He rolled the bedspread between his fingers, thinking and began to hum.   
  
_It's in the singing of a sweet corner choir  
It's going home and getting warm by the fire  
It's true that wherever you find love  
If feels like Christmas.   
  
_Satine stopped her dainty toil and looked at him. She smiled and sang back to him, falling into the same easy rhythm that they always found together.   
  
_A cup of kindness we share with another  
A sweet reunion with a friend or a brother  
In all the places you find love  
It feels like Christmas.   
  
_He kissed her warmly, and went to go prepare the Christmas gifts for everyone else in the family.  
  
Do you need help with your hair, Satine? Margaret had peered into their bedroom, where Satine sat, frowning at the mirror.   
  
Yes, please, Satine laughed, turning to face her. Anne's downstairs, helping with dinner, and I've lost my ability to pin it up like I used to. You look lovely, she added, seeing Margaret's new cream-coloured satin decorated with silk roses. She blushed prettily and pinned a tendril of hair up.   
  
Thank you, she said softly. I love Christmas, you know. It's always been my favorite time of year. At home, Father stopped being so stern all the time, and Mama always rushed around the house, getting everything ready. Christian would sing carols all the time, so the house was full of music.   
  
Christmas is special, Satine agreed, putting her new earrings on and admiring their gleam against the background of her dress.   
  
_It is the season of the heart  
A special time of caring  
The ways of love made clear.  
  
_Satine glanced up at her, surprised at the passion in her voice. Margaret's cheeks were flushed with excitement and happiness, and Satine pressed her hand down on the younger girl's as she responded. _  
  
It is the season of the spirit  
The message if we hear it  
Is make it last all year.   
  
_Merry Christmas! Christian was waiting for them both in the dining room, Celeste in his arms. She wore a dark red smock and pinafore Margaret had embroidered for her, and a matching ribbon was in her black hair. Christian kissed his sister on the cheek as she took Celeste from him, murmuring nonsense words into her baby ears.   
  
He held out a hand for Satine, and her fingertips settled into his palm. As he drew her into the light, he gave a slight gasp at her beauty. Satine wore a dark plum coloured velvet dress and the pearl necklace he had given her last Christmas. The contrasts struck between her gown and jewelry was reflected in her hair and skin. Her waist was larger than usual, but that only served to add to her loveliness in the warmth of the candlelight.   
  
First gifts! Satine called out merrily. Margaret opened her package to reveal a pretty silver paper knife and pale pink stationary. Celeste looked unimpressed with her rag doll, and Satine reflected with a grin that perhaps Christian had had the right idea after all. Christian watched her with a smile as she opened her gift and revealed a ruby pendant that sparkled like red wine through a cut glass goblet.   
  
Oh, Christian, she whispered. It's beautiful. She held the jewel in the palm of her hand, admiring the way it caught the light. She touched his hand and smiled at him. Now you.   
  
Christian opened the small box carefully, setting aside the paper that hid the gift from him. He drew out a new gold pocket watch and held it up for the whole table to see.   
  
That's wonderful, Christian, Margaret said, watching the scene before her with delighted eyes. Celeste clapped her hands and giggled as the watch dangled before her. Christian picked up Satine's hand and kissed it. She smiled at him, love filling her eyes.   
  
No, no, Celeste, Margaret said gently as the little girl reached out for her plate. Grace first. She turned expectantly to Christian, and in response he took her hand. They formed a circle around the table, Celeste being the final link in the chain. Satine took the baby hand in her own, and bowed her head. Christian paused for a moment and then began to sing.   
  
_Life is full of sweet surprises  
Every day's a gift  
The sun comes up and I can feel it   
Lift my spirit.   
  
_He squeezed Satine's hand tightly and felt her fingers tighten in response.   
  
_Fills me up with laughter  
Fills me up with song  
I look into the eyes of love  
And know that I belong.   
  
_ Christian looked up and found everyone else doing the same. Satine's eyes were misty with tears, while Margaret's beamed quietly with happiness. Celeste's blue eyes, those reflections of his own, were joyous.   
  
_Bless us all  
Who gather here,  
  
_Satine sang the next part of the prayer, her voice fitting perfectly next to his.  
  
_The loving family I hold dear.  
  
No place on earth compares with home  
And every path will bring me back from where I roam.  
  
_Margaret looked a little astonished at her bravado in joining in. Their three voices met in the next lines.  
  
_Bless us all  
That as we live  
We always comfort and forgive  
We have so much that we can share.   
  
_Satine sang the next line, remembering her days of poverty in the Moulin Rouge and those that still were trapped in the underworld.   
  
_With those in need we can see around us everywhere.  
  
_Christian joined her, singing their mutual wishes for the rest of their lives.   
  
_Let us always love each other  
Lead us to the light  
Let us hear the voice of reason  
Singing in the night.   
  
_Satine paused for breath as he expressed his request for the next year and forever after that.   
  
_Let us from anger.  
  
_Satine added her hope to his, her high voice resonating through the whole room.  
_  
And catch us when we fall.   
  
_Margaret's words were filled with longing for a future like theirs, and her look expressed every secret dream she was cherishing.  
  
_Teach us in our dreams and please, yes, please  
Bless us one and all.   
  
` _Three voices sang the finale of their prayer while Celeste watched, her eyes wide. Satine and Christian prayed for preservation of their beautiful dream, while Margaret confessed her girlish hopes for wife and motherhood.   
  
_Bless us all   
With playful years  
With noisy games  
And joyful tears  
We reach for you and we stand tall  
And in our prayers and dreams  
We ask you bless us all.   
  
_Their heads bowed again as Christian quietly sang the end of the heartfelt prayer.  
  
_We reach for you and we stand tall  
And in our prayers and dreams   
We ask you bless us all.  
_  
~-~-  
Author's Note: Ah, yes, fluff galore. These chapters will actually start having points soon, believe it or not. I hope everyone's enjoying this!  
  
Songs used:  
Feels Like Christmas--Muppet Christmas Carol  
Bless Us All--Muppet Christmas Carol  
  
  
What?!? It's a good show! :)


	5. The Tide Turns

Chapter V: The Tide Turns  
  
Are you sure you don't need me at home? Margaret asked for the fifth time, nervously shifting from side to side as she spoke. Satine didn't even bother to look up this time.  
  
  
  
Because if you think you're too tired, I can--  
  
  
  
And Celeste likes me to--  
  
Margaret! Go to the dance! Satine straightened up and fixed a determined glare on her sister. You look beautiful, you'll have a delightful time. Just go. Get Henry to drive you, but just go. Margaret opened her mouth to protest, but found herself being pushed out the door.   
  
Satine cried, out of breath. She sat down on the chair, sighing a little as the door closed behind a clearly reluctant Margaret. She hated being overweight. Every move seemed to take forever, and she lost her natural grace to the baby's weight. She meant to get up, but she seemed to be pressed down into her chair. A few minutes passed, but she was still sitting there, silently fuming about the pain in her lower back, when she felt a pair of strong hands massaging her shoulders.   
  
Is Celeste in bed? she asked, luxuriating in his touch.   
  
Christian said, kissing her ear. Satine sank a little lower into the armchair and sighed again.   
  
Go lie down, darling, Christian said, placing his cheek next to hers as he spoke. Satine wrinkled her nose at him.   
  
I don't want to lie down. I'll miss the New Year.  
  
I'll wake you up in time. Satine paused, feeling the weight of her eyelids pressing down. Letting the cares of the world slip off her shoulders for a time sounded very attractive, indeed.   
  
All right, she said, standing with his help. She smiled wanly at him and touched his hand. A little bit of weight and you suddenly become overprotective. Where does that come from, dear?   
  
I'm sorry, Christian said, not meaning a word of it. Satine raised a knowing eyebrow as he supported her up the stairs.   
  
No, don't be. She winced and pressed her hand down on his arm. I hate this.   
  
I know, Christian said gently. He helped her up onto the bed and pulled her shoes off. I'm sorry, darling. Satine lay back in heap of pillows and sighed. Christian pulled several closely-written sheets of paper from his portfolio and was scowling at one when Satine spoke again.   
  
she said. It's strange to think it'll really be 1904.   
  
That much stranger than 1903? Christian asked, glad of a distraction. Satine played with her necklace and shrugged.   
  
I don't know. It's just that with every year, it seems to be a surprise to me that I'm here. She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. That I'm never going back. Christian rose and sat down by her, wrapping his arm around her. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled by her hair.   
  
You are never going back, Satine, he said, running a hand over her shoulder as he spoke. I promise you that. Satine smiled lopsidedly at him, and he kissed her forehead before settling back down beside him, to wait for the New Year together.  
  
In the meantime, Margaret had slipped into a shadowy corner and was wondering why in heaven's name she was here. The room was filled with people her age and a few chaperones, but they all appeared monsters to Margaret. She glanced down at her new rose-coloured silk and jewelry Satine had lent her, and sighed. What was the good of having pretty things to wear if you didn't have the courage to face anyone when you had them on?   
  
Margaret continued to argue with herself, but her natural reserve won in any case. She had outgrown her painfully shy stage when she couldn't speak to anyone, but a great deal of it had yet to be overcome. The very core of her spirit was vulnerable and shied away from careless human touch.  
  
Excuse me, Mademoiselle? Margaret glanced up and flushed at the sight before her. Her first, fleeting impression was of a silky voice and a definite aura of charm. Then as her stunned senses came back into focus, she became aware of a handsome face framed by dark brown hair and piercing blue-green eyes. Margaret had no idea how fresh and pretty she looked against the background of the fern in the corner. Her slim, girlish figure wrapped in shirred silk lent an air of mystery and piquancy to her usual prim deportment. A soft brown curl had slipped from her hair combs and teased the curve of her cheek.   
  
Margaret desperately tried to keep her voice steadier than her heart. She exhaled deeply and brushed her skirt off.   
  
May I have the pleasure of being introduced to you? If it was possible, the voice became even darker and richer, sliding over her unsettled senses like warm honey.   
  
I'm-- I'm Margaret Everett. I'm Christian Everett's younger sister-- visit-- visiting from England.  
  
I see. If he noted her discomfort, he didn't show it. He bowed over her hand as if she were royalty. I am Paul Durand. No one's little sister, I'm afraid. Margaret laughed, her stiff posture relaxing a bit as she did so. Are you to be in France long, Mademoiselle Everett?   
  
Yes, for quite some time.   
  
Excellent. And your sister-in-law, is she well?   
  
You know Satine? Margaret blurted out before she could stop herself. An amused quirk appeared on his lips, and he nodded.   
  
Slightly. Madam Everett is quite the charming creature. . . or so I hear. I understand my mother is impressed with the Parisian manners these days.   
  
Satine is the loveliest woman in the world, Margaret said firmly. She had a loyal heart, quick to defend those around her-- even when it was unnecessary.   
  
I'm afraid I must contest that, Mademoiselle. His look left no doubt to the meaning of those words, and Margaret flushed a darker pink. As she glanced up, she began to smile. Her smile was what had caught Satine's interest in the first place. It was slow and sweet, and hinted at the beautiful secrets that were locked safely away in her soul.   
  
Paul Durand was immediately caught by that smile. There were plenty of other girls out there-- some prettier, some far more willing to flirt than this little English maid. But none of them had anything to discover in them. Paul Durand was proud of his ability to draw things out of people, and it looked like he'd found a worthy interest in this sister-in-law of that absolutely stunning woman. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought of the pale skin and fiery hair that Satine Everett possessed. Lips kissed red by a passionate life, and smoky blue eyes that just begged you to discover her secrets. But Paul's friend Robert had tried to flirt with Madam Everett once. Paul hid a grin as he remembered the dainty turn of the nose up to the ceiling and the disdainful glance. She would not brook any play outside of her marriage, that much was clear. Pity, too, that a woman like that should be so attached to her husband. But he'd found a pleasing toy in Margaret Everett. And there would be no chance of a serious attachment. After all, the girl had to go back to England sometime.   
  
The music started again, and he glanced around. Yes, the girl did have to go back to England sometime. But not now. Now. . .  
  
  
  
He bowed again, and took her hand, noting with pleasure how easily she flushed against his touch.   
  
_We've just been introduced  
I do not know you well  
But when the music started  
Something drew me to your side.  
  
_He drew her out onto the dance floor. Margaret felt confused and dizzy and happy all in the same moment. Was this what love was? He was so charming and caring! Just like Christian was with Satine. And maybe love was heaven-sent after all. . .  
  
_So many men and girls  
Are in each other's arms  
It made me think we might be similarly occupied.  
_  
Margaret raised an eyebrow, trying to mimic Satine when she talked with Christian, but the end result was more than a little comical. And as much as she strove to be coquettish, her voice only came out sweet and pure.   
_  
Shall we dance?  
On a bright cloud of music shall we fly?  
Shall we dance?  
Shall we then say "goodnight" and mean "goodbye?"  
_  
Paul was pleasantly surprised by her words. Maybe this girl wasn't as naive as she appeared to be. At any rate, she was a nice little thing. Perhaps he could even be friends with her after he wooed her for a bit. He shot a glance up at the clock. A good way to start a New Year, that. A new romance.   
  
_Or, perchance when the last little star has left the sky  
Shall we still be together with our arms around each other  
And shall you be my new romance?  
On the clear understanding that this kind of thing can happen  
Shall we dance?  
Shall we dance?  
Shall we dance?  
  
_They were dancing together when the clock struck twelve, and Margaret thrilled to the sound of the bells with all her heart. She was in love. This had to be a good omen for the times to come. When the tide turned on the New Year, she had been dancing with Paul.   
  
As the clock chimed a final time, Satine sank back down onto the chaise and smiled up at Christian. He ran to open the door to let the New Year in, and a chilly rush of air swept past him. Satine smiled and leaned her head against her hand. Another year. What would 1904 bring them? A child-- that was for certain. But what else? Joy? Heartache? Hope?   
  
Another year of love, Christian said, coming to sit down by her. Satine smiled into his eyes.   
  
Without a doubt.   
  



	6. Valentines

A/N: A quick update, lots of fluff. Reviews are delightful things!   
  
  
Chapter VI: Valentines  
  
Happy Valentine's, darling, Christian whispered, leaning over to kiss Satine awake. Her eyes flickered for a moment, and then she smiled sleepily, reaching her arms about him. The light fell sweetly through the ruffled muslin curtains Margaret and Satine had made in the winter, and the air smelled fresh from the days of rain that had preceded the beauty of early spring. Christian's hair fell over his forehead, and she reached up and idly brushed it off.   
  
How do you feel? Christian asked after a moment. He propped his chin up with his hands as he watched her. In his soft blue eyes was an expression of pure tenderness. He knew Satine dreaded these long months before the baby was born, and tried to imagine if he was in her place. He didn't know if he could take swollen ankles and aching back that Satine tolerated with only a few good cries. He knew from experience that this was the hardest part of her pregnancy, and tried to make things easy for her. She sighed softly, her hand slipping down to her enlarged stomach.   
  
All right, she said slowly, feeling the baby kick against her. She caressed her stomach fondly, imagining the small girl or boy she would soon hold in her arms. What do you think, Christian?  
  
About what? he replied, fluffing up a pillow so she could sit up.   
  
Boy or girl? Christian straightened up and paused, pondering the idea. He shrugged and continued to fix the sheets around her.   
  
I don't know, he said, placing her afghan around her shoulders. I don't think we have much choice in the matter. Satine snuggled closer to the crocheted flowers and looked reproachfully up at him.   
  
You are not helpful.   
  
I know, Christian sighed, looking as though he was enjoying himself hugely. I try. Satine slapped at his arm playfully and let her eyes sparkle into his.   
  
Christian, we haven't even begun to think about names.   
  
I think we did enough of that last time, Christian groaned, easing himself into a chair nearby and propping his feet up on the bed. Remember those lists?   
  
And the baby clothes? Satine added, her mouth twitching. During the nine months of carrying Celeste, she and Christian had prepared enough names, garments, and toys for at least two children-- three if the next one wasn't quite as messy as the first. Celeste reigned over her nursery and the house like the little princess she was, and Satine wouldn't be in the least surprised if her daughter grew up to be as fashion-concious as herself.   
  
I do, Christian said dryly. I don't see why we have to do anything for this one.   
  
Satine began, then changed her mind. At any rate, what do you think?   
  
I always liked the name Ethan, Christian suggested doubtfully, watching her reaction closely. The varying moods that related to baby names always came out on Satine's face beautifully. She didn't fail this time. A look of horror creeped across her face, but Christian guessed that she was only playing with him.   
  
she said firmly. Her slim fingers tapped his wrist absently while she spoke. Ethan Everett? Really, Christian, where do you come up with these things?  
  
I think I read a book about an Ethan once, Christian said reflectively. Satine sighed deeply and fell back onto her nest of pillows. Her hand settled somewhere near her forehead in a dramatic pose.   
  
To think that the name of our child is dependent solely on your reading material.  
  
You love it, Christian said rather rudely as he pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. Satine turned her head and raised an eyebrow at him. He caught her glance and brushed his hand across hers.   
  
I love you, she whispered. She tightened her grasp on his hand. A blot of ink marred the smooth skin of his thumb, and she ran her fingers over it. He had the hands of a poet, and she adored them. She adored him.   
  
And I you, Christian responded, touching her cheek in a brief caress before standing. Speaking of which, I have something for you. He turned to go rummage in his drawer while Satine waited with a slight smile on her face. Still as starry-eyed as he was when he'd first sang to her, and she'd give anything to keep him that way. He'd restored most of her innocence to her with his love, and the child they'd made together. Christian turned back around with a small cream-coloured box in his hands. Satine raised a quizzical eyebrow as he sat down beside her, his arm tucked snugly around her. She leaned her head against his shoulder, taking in the flow of his breath and the tender, spicy scent of him.   
  
Christian said, tossing the lid aside and revealing the contents. It's a little late, he added, his lips quirking in a smile. But I thought it might be nice to have along the gold ring you like so much. Satine's gaze dropped from the box and down to her wedding band-- a simple, broad circlet of gold and back up at the ring in the midst of velvet.   
  
she whispered, her eyes fixed on the milk and fire of the opal that was nestled around its gold setting. She reached out and turned it in the light. She drank in the way it shimmered in the light, the beauty reaching into her soul as she slipped it on her ring finger. She squeezed his hand again, trusting her thanks to shine through her eyes. Men had always given her jewelry, but she never remembered any of those flamboyant treasures becoming a part of her like the things Christian gave her had. He liked to give her gems, poetry, and flowers as if he was still trying to win her heart. Satine kissed him lightly on the lips, and he responded softly, brushing his hand across her cheek as he kissed her back. She shifted her weight to embrace him, and they sat together like that for a long moment, absorbed in loving each other.   
  
In the hall by the bedroom, Margaret adjusted the delicate ringlets of her hair and smoothed the bodice of her gown. Paul had hinted very darkly that he would call today, and Margaret hoped so very much to see him. Her smile blossomed on her face as she lowered her dusky eyelashes. Margaret knew she was in a fair way to lose her heart to the young man, and she thrilled to the consecrated touch of first love.   
  
For the past few weeks, Paul had been a familiar site in the dainty parlor, and Satine was more than pleased by his appearance. He was intelligent, handsome, well-read, and romantic-- in short, a proper husband for Margaret. But there was a certain strange air that passed over him at times that Satine did not like. Occasionally his dark eyes would shift in a manner that troubled her. She knew men well, and she knew enough to not be completely convinced. But Margaret's trusting sweetness would lend itself well to any man, and Satine knew, beyond a doubt, that Paul was of a higher class than most of the young men that populated the small town. For one thing, he had never tried to flirt with Satine, and that was impressive enough in itself. The stammers and callow remarks of the young men only amused Christian, but Satine was irritated by their attempts. Was a woman never safe from unwanted attention? She'd been able to understand it at the Moulin Rouge, where her face and dress simply begged for attention, but shouldn't a respectable woman, someone's wife, be safe from that? Paul's unfailing politeness towards Satine softened any reserve she might have held against him, and Margaret gloried in knowing that her beloved sister approved the match. Christian liked him as well, and even went so far to remark that no one would object to friends like Paul-- a tacit agreement to his courtship of Margaret.   
  
Margaret finished fussing with her appearance just as Christian appeared in the hallway, followed by Satine. The young girl glanced over at her brother, who tugged lightly on his wife's hand to get her to follow, and her smile came out in its entireity. She and Christian had always been close, but it wasn't until his marriage that she'd been truly able to understand what Christian had been talking about when he'd angered their father. Love, Christian had said, was the greatest thing this world held. And it was.   
  
Morning, Margaret, Satine called out as she followed Christian to the breakfast table. You look nice, dear. It's a good thing to look lovely in the mornings, you know. Might be a special guest for breakfast. She tried to contain a mischevious grin, but it broke out over her lovely face. A very special guest.   
  
Thank you, Margaret replied softly, watching her reflection frown pensively. After a moment, she stopped and stared at the two of them as Satine's words sank in. Satine-- are you up to something? They laughed, sending bright tones of merriment throught the house, and Margaret's eyes opened wide. Flushing, she ran up behind Christian, feeling her stomach contract in hopeful anticipation.   
  
She wasn't disappointed. Paul already sat there, and the place next to him was graced by the presence of a long box. He rose as they entered, Satine serenely placed on Christian's arm as if they hadn't been giggling like schoolchildren the moment before. She really was a wonderful actress, Christian reflected bemusedly as he pulled out a chair for her. Satine gave him a reproachful look as he sat down that suggested he'd better not disturb her facade or he'd hear of it later.   
  
Morning, Mademoiselle Margaret, Paul said. He helped her to the chair next to him, and Margaret was suddenly very thankful she'd taken the time to curl her hair and put on her ivory morning gown. His piercing gaze cut through to her soul, and she flushed.   
  
Good morning, she said faintly. She could have sworn that she heard Satine give a little laugh, but as her eyes swung over to meet her sister, they only met puzzled innocence. Oh-- what's this? Margaret's hand lingered over the red satin ribbon that held the box together.   
  
It's for you, Paul said, a trace of shyness entering his voice. The look on his face was completely and utterly charming. Margaret was promptly reduced to a fluttering young girl. that is, one very thankful that she'd been trained to keep an English demeanour at all times. I hope you like them, he added as she slid the cover off. Margaret was unable to keep her smile away when she saw the graceful arrangement of roses and ferns that lay within.   
  
Oh, Paul! she breathed. They're beautiful. Paul only smiled in return, and Satine felt the warm pressure of her husband's hand on hers as they watched the younger couple together. It was sweet, Satine reflected as she took a sip of tea. Not up to the ideal of singing a duet on top of an elephant, but one couldn't have everything. From the look on Christian's face, he was thinking the exact same thing.   
  
Later that afternoon, Margaret stood in the doorway to the parlor with her hat and parsol. Chrstian glanced up from his book to eye her.   
  
he asked idly, noting her dreamy expression. Margaret nodded and blushed prettily.   
  
I'll be back in time for supper. We're going with a few other people to the brook and then perhaps around the walnut grove.   
  
That's fine, Christian said absently, waving a hand towards the door. Enjoy yourselves. Margaret nodded quickly and ran out the front door, already waving to Paul.   
  
Makes you feel old, doesn't it? Satine asked playfully, her gaze rising from her own book to catch Christian's.   
  
Christian replied indignantly. She caught the glimpse of mirth in his eyes, and deliberatly exaggerated her disbelieving expression as he protested. I'm not old!   
  
Certainly, dear, Satine replied, carefully cultivating a strain of amused patience for her voice. As she expected, Christian's jaw dropped and his arms immediately found their way around her. Satine smiled widely as she broke away from a passionate kiss.   
  
Well. . . she began doubtfully, only to be interrupted by another kiss. Perhaps not. . ._yet. _  



End file.
